"To The Duke of Hereward, Lone, N.B.: She is perfectly well. J.A. Setter."
"Thank Heaven! I breathe freely now!" said the young duke to himself, as he arose from his seat.
He liberally rewarded the telegraph operator, and then left the office and walked back to the inn.
The Arondelle Arms was all alive with excitement. More travellers had come down from Banff, and the inn was crowded, principally by men of the Clan Scott. Every room was filled, every window lighted up. The bar and the tap room reeked.
The duke was making his way through the crowd as best he might, when he was met by the landlord, who bowed, and apologized, and finally offered to conduct his grace by a private entrance to the parlor connected with the duke's own reserved suit of apartments.
"An' noo, what will your grace hae to your supper?" hospitably inquired the host, as soon as his guest was comfortably seated in his arm-chair before the fire.
"Anything at all, so that it is cleanly served, for which I can, of course, trust the Arondelle Arms," said the duke, smiling.
The landlord bowed and went out.
The duke leaned back in his chair, and stretched his feet to the genial warmth of the fire.
He was feeling very happy. An immense load of anxiety was lifted from his heart. She was found! She was perfectly well! In twelve hours he would see her, and hear her own explanation of her very strange conduct. Her explanation would be perfectly satisfactory. So great was his confidence in her that he felt sure of this.